


with lips more scar tissue than skin

by slashedsilver



Category: VIXX
Genre: Alternate Universe - Prostitution, Angst, Fluff, Hooker Fic with Feelings, Jealousy, M/M, Misunderstandings, Philosophising About Love, Protectiveness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-16
Updated: 2015-06-16
Packaged: 2018-04-04 16:17:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4144326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slashedsilver/pseuds/slashedsilver
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hongbin stops the company car to pick up a hooker on a cold street corner. It's the best and worst mistake he's ever made.</p><p>(Also known as my hooker fic with feelings and no sex.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	with lips more scar tissue than skin

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is dedicated to [alesserrain](http://alesserrain.livejournal.com), fanclub president, because without her support it would have remained a drabble and not the 9k monstrosity you see today. (Please direct all complaints that way.) Thank you for the prompt, the poem, and for assuring me that I had a story to tell ♥
> 
> Also for the adorable [wykedpanda](http://wykedpanda.livejournal.com) and [thunggyu](http://thunggyu.livejournal.com), who cheered me on and pretended to be excited with every release of a new part, [kalopsia](http://kalopsia.livejournal.com), who held my hand and walked through a writing crisis with me, and [alphanumerunes](http://alphanumerunes.livejournal.com), who read this over, typed me hangover poetry, and caught the errant typing mistake.
> 
> Written for [alesserrain](http://alesserrain.livejournal.com)'s prompt on the [VIXX Three Sentence Ficathon](http://alesserrain.livejournal.com/568.html), "I was looking for a hooker when I found you." Title is from the poem quoted at the end.

He's standing on the roadside, legs stuffed into overly tight jeans, jacket much too thin for the Korean winter. His hair is artfully ruffled and gelled. There's no question at all about what he's selling.

Hongbin's driven past this stretch of road so many times without stopping. He has no reason to change that now, not when he's hurrying back from putting in his usual overtime at the office, eyes strained and head aching from staring at small graphs on his computer screen the entire day. His bed is calling his name. 

But there's something about the forlorn expression on the man's face that catches his attention, causes the steady pressure on his accelerator to falter. Somehow, he's pulling up along the curb, keeping the engine down low, turning his window down (and how does he wind up in these sort of situations), and poking his head out. A cold gust of wind sweeps into the car. It's pushing March, but the winter has been particularly unforgiving and the night air is frigid.

The look on the man's face has morphed from tired to predatory. "Hello, there."

"Hi," Hongbin says. It comes out strangled. He clears his throat and tries again. "My name's Hongbin."

"N," the man says, lip curling slightly in a way he probably thinks is sexy. (Hongbin is dismayed to find that he's right.) "But you can call me whatever you want." The corners of his mouth tighten a little—in resignation? Anger?

"N-ssi," Hongbin says immediately. "I'll call you whatever you want me to call you."

Hongbin discovers that N's eyes light up when he smiles. He shouldn't feel as warm as he does—the air is bitterly cold and it's the main reason he stopped tonight; no one should be left to stand on a roadside on such a night. 

As N rattles off his price list, Hongbin thinks of the hours of overtime he'll need to put in to make up for the dent this is going to make in his bank account. He can't afford someone like N. But when he agrees to the terms and N slides into the car, making a pleased noise at the temperature, Hongbin finds he can't bring himself to regret it.

N is casual and flirty, making easy, throwaway conversation, careful never to cross the line to talkative. Hongbin spends his time gripping the steering wheel of the company car and sneaking glances at N, long and languid and laid out in the seat next to his. N holds himself like someone who knows his body well and how to show it off for maximum effect. In contrast, his smiles are small, controlled, but sometimes they flit across his face like birds, magical and escaping. It makes Hongbin want to stare. He swallows and keeps his eyes on the road.

It's when they're standing outside the door to his apartment that he starts to feel like he's made a mistake.

"Your... apartment?" N says, as Hongbin fumbles for his keys, hoping his steadily rising panic isn't too evident.

"Yes?" The keys slip out of Hongbin's grasp and he curses, bending over to retrieve them. His cheeks are flushed when he straightens and turns around to meet N's eyes. N's expression is inscrutable. "Is there something wrong?"

N straightens, shifts his weight. "No, nothing."

Feeling like there's something he missed, Hongbin can only turn around again and insert his key into his lock. He pushes open the door and prays he doesn't have any stray clothes lying around. 

"Um, so... Welcome to my home." One hand twists in the side of his trousers as he waits for N's judgment. 

N steps in cautiously, toeing off his socks and shoes at the door. The sight of N's bare ankles on his wooden floor does something to Hongbin. He closes the door behind them in a hurry, nearly shutting out N's shoes by accident.

 _This is it,_ Hongbin thinks, heart pounding and throat dry. He's really doing it. His stomach hurts.

"It's a nice place," N says politely, somehow appearing many times more awkward than he had been when he was flirting casually with Hongbin in the car. Standing amongst Hongbin's very ordinary possessions, N looks out of place. Under the light in the apartment, the eyeliner N has drawn to highlight his eyes becomes even more obvious. There's a little bit of glitter on his cheek. There are metal studs neatly lining the front of his dark jacket. 

He's beautiful. And he's in Hongbin's house.

"You can just take off your coat," he stammers, waving at the clothes stand in the corner. "And make yourself comfortable on the couch." A cursory glance at his furniture and floor reveals that his housekeeping skills have yet to fail him. He breathes a sigh of relief and turns back to face N, saying, "And can I get you something to drink—" It's cut off in a yelp.

N has taken off his coat, as Hongbin suggested, but he hasn't stopped there. He's also methodically unbuttoning the long-sleeved shirt he has underneath, revealing a rapidly elongating triangle of smooth, bronze skin. At Hongbin's strangled noise, N pauses, long fingers hovering over the next button. "Is everything okay?"

And then Hongbin asks the stupidest question in the history of all stupid questions. "What are you doing?" 

N actually looks bewildered. "I thought—"

"Okay wait, that was a stupid question," Hongbin says, two seconds too late, because his brain has finally caught up with his mouth. His chest is tight and his palms are sweaty and sure, he was the one who picked up a hooker but all this is happening too fast—"I mean, of course I know what you're doing." 

N waits expectantly. Hongbin coughs. In his head, his mother admonishes him for not offering his guest at least a glass of water. Hongbin shuffles his feet and responds obediently. "Um. Can I get you something to drink?"

N's startled expression is enough to take the tension out of him. He's in his own apartment, with someone he's found attractive enough to bring home. Hongbin smiles and breathes more easily. He can do this.

~*~

Hakyeon has taken a lot of jobs in the few years he's been active as a— _recreational service provider_ , Jaehwan would say, without blinking an eyelid; _hooker_ , Hakyeon would return plainly. It started, as most things do, out of necessity. Hyuk needed to go to college. There were bills to pay, two large appetites that needed to be fed. Hakyeon would take any job that would have him.

In his time, he's seen all sorts. Clients so much older that it that make his skin crawl, that they would come prowling for someone as young as he looks. Younger clients that can be so much crueler and more inventive in the things they want him to try, and less forgiving when he trips up. There are days he returns home and just curls up in his cot, shame and humiliation worse than physical souvenirs. Over the couple of years, he's developed his own set of rules—things he will do, things he won't touch. It's still leaves enough options for him to turn a sizable paycheck every month, while still feeling, as much as possible, that he has still has some sort of control.

The rules are there to protect him. But it's the first time he feels like he doesn't need to be protected.

It's not what he expects. Hongbin is careful, gentle, and above all, strangely respectful, as though Hakyeon is more than just someone being paid for services rendered. It's terrifying, how easily he can be taken apart. How easily he can let himself pretend with Hongbin, who takes his time making him feel comfortable, who holds himself tenderly over him and does not press his entire weight on him like a display of power, who seeks Hakyeon's pleasure as much as his own.

When Hongbin meets his eyes and gasps words of encouragement, Hakyeon closes his own and lets the sound of the other's voice wash over him and for a moment, allows himself to believe he has no second appointment that night. It's just Hongbin, this attractive man that he met at a bar, at a park, on the bus, through mutual friends, whom he hit it off instantly with, enough to ask for another date, and another, until they wound up in each other's beds, solidifying what they'd found.

Hakyeon lies against solid arms long after their breathing has evened out. He knows Hongbin's sort. Curious, perhaps, about what it would be like to sleep with a hooker. Trying it out just once to relieve the stress of working overtime in a big company. With his good looks and pure heart, Hongbin should have no shortage of men and women eager for a chance to win his heart. It's a once-off. Hakyeon knows that. But there's no harm in indulging in a bit of fantasy.

When the alarm on his phone goes off with a beep, Hakyeon reluctantly forces himself to shift off the bed. His mind is already racing ahead, mentally planning for the next slot. 

"N-ssi," Hongbin says, calling Hakyeon by the alias he gave him.

Hakyeon, reaching for his coat, pauses with a shiver. "What is it?"

"Do you need to go?" Hongbin asks, plaintive. Hakyeon isn't sure if it's his usual way of speaking or if his large doe eyes contribute to the effect, but it teases out a smile. It's only been an hour since they met, but Hakyeon's going to miss him.

"Unless you'd like to pay for another hour," he quips. It's impossible, of course; he's already been booked. It wouldn't do to be late for his regulars. He'll need to take a quick shower somewhere and freshen up. His ten o'clock likes the chic, suited look. He may need to see about getting some gel for his hair. 

"Do you think I could see you again?"

Hakyeon freezes before shrugging on his coat. It's a mistake. He's never trod the line between work and pleasure so finely before. But Hongbin makes him want things that are impossible, makes him reckless enough to try.

"I'm available next Monday." 

Hongbin's smile lights up the room.

~*~

If anyone were to ask Hongbin, he would say he's a thrifty spender. He's never allowed himself to splurge on anything more than the bare necessities. Why would he need a designer oven when a regular toaster oven at Homeplus is less than a fraction of the price? He can pick up a couch secondhand from Used Town; he doesn't need it to be brand new, made of the finest wood finishing or top-quality springs, it just needs to be able to hold his weight and hopefully not give him a backache in the process. The living prices in Seoul are already enough to drain a sizeable proportion of his paycheck; Hongbin will save where he can.

The only thing he can't scrimp on are his suits and his briefcases. Firstly, because his mother would be horrified if he showed up to work in less than pristine condition. Secondly, in a job like sales, it's always about the overall impression. His partner at work complains that he's too gullible for sales, but at the same time, it's his pretty face and earnest smiles that draw in the customers and seal the deal. Hongbin isn't fantastic at his job but he makes up for it with sheer determination and hard work. There's something to be said for that. 

And all right, maybe he should have felt worse about picking up a hooker in the company car he's supposed to be using to meet clients, but it was for a good cause. 

"It was," he insists, to the photograph of his mother on his dresser. "He was cold!" 

In his head, his mother snorts. She never was particularly refined about expressing her opinions. And she always saw right through Hongbin's excuses.

"I'll make sure I have enough to eat, don't worry. I just—" Hongbin can't contain the surge of excitement. "I just want to see him again."

He's been thrifty all his life, and now it feels like he should be allowed to splurge a little. On something that he wants, for once. And maybe N's dark, beautiful eyes and lovely bronze skin contributed to it, but there was also something else there, barely hidden, an attraction he wants to explore.

Monday can't come fast enough.

~*~

Their next few appointments go much the same way. It doesn't matter what Hakyeon is wearing—whether he's gussied up in suit and tie or casual in a t-shirt, with ungelled hair soft around his eyes—Hongbin would greet him at the door with the same reverence and shyness he showed the first time they had met.

"You look really nice," he would say, and damn that sincerity in his eyes, because Hakyeon, against his better senses, would believe him.

"Not as good as you," Hakyeon would reply, honest despite himself. He's tried it in different ways: purring the words, aiming for seduction; saying it coyly through lowered eyelashes, trying naive innocence; serious and intense, wanting to overpower. 

Hongbin would just beam, wave him in and offer him something to drink, then spend the next twenty minutes talking to Hakyeon as they sit thigh to thigh on the small couch. Hongbin asks him questions about himself, tactfully steering away when it gets too much. In return, Hongbin tells him everything from his job to his photography hobby to his best friend and the dog he left in his care because the apartment management doesn't allow its tenants to keep pets on the complex. 

Hakyeon is always acutely aware of the time ticking away as they talk. He enjoys the break in his routine but he feels somehow helpless. Hongbin is the first client he wants so actively to please, yet half their time together is spent in stammered, stilted conversation that reaches into parts of himself he hasn't uncovered in ages. Hakyeon wishes he were as good with his words as he is with his body.

"So, are there any restrictions to what I can do with your time?" 

Hakyeon jerks and his heart starts to race. He's gone through this with Hongbin when they first met; Hongbin has never expressed an issue with Hakyeon's surprisingly vanilla tastes, nor has he shown any inclination of wanting to push the boundaries, unlike some of his more unsavory clients. Haltingly, Hakyeon repeats, "I don't do bondage, or threesomes, or any of the hardcore kinks—"

Hongbin flushes, raises a hand to interrupt him. "I remember. You've said. But other than that... it's good?"

He hesitates. He searches Hongbin's face but can't find any trace of malice in it. "Yes."

A huge smile lights up Hongbin's face. His dimples show. Hakyeon wants to kiss them, so he does.

"Next week—meet me outside Jamsil subway station," Hongbin says, when they part for air. Hakyeon stops, surprised. Hongbin has to lean in to meet him instead. "Say yes," he entreats.

It's almost been a month since they met. Hongbin's apartment is sparse, in no way luxurious enough to be able to afford someone like Hakyeon week after week. Hakyeon thinks of the day when their meetings will run out and wants to rail at the injustice of it all. 

Perhaps it's the combination of recklessness and Hongbin's hopeful expression that makes Hakyeon respond as he does. 

"Yes," he breathes. 

In retrospect, he should really have known better.

~*~

So maybe it isn't one of Hongbin's brighter ideas, but none of this—from stopping along the road and picking up his first hooker, to sleeping with said hooker, to possibly, just a teensy bit, starting to develop an unhealthy attraction to and dependence on the hitherto mentioned—should be placed under that category. And he's probably pushing all the boundaries of what is considered acceptable etiquette when engaging a hooker, but N hadn't explicitly said he couldn't bring him out. It would almost be like a date!

 _If one is accustomed to paying for their dates._

People pay for their dates all the time, Hongbin tells his mother, deliberately obtuse. But he sweeps her photograph up and presses a kiss on the glass to make up for it.

_That's not what I meant._

Hongbin laughs. He counts out three times of N's hourly rate and puts it carefully into an envelope. That should be enough to keep N with him long enough for what he's planned. He quashes the errant wish that they could have more. But N is busy, he scolds himself, even as his heart drops.

 _This is stupid,_ his mother warns.

It's okay. He's good at being earnest. He grabs his coat, slings his satchel and his camera around him. Then he picks up his knitted scarf and heads out of the door.

~*~

When they meet outside Jamsil station, it's the first time Hakyeon sees Hongbin out of a business suit (the first day) and comfortable tracksuits (every subsequent appointment). He's dressed in a pair of jeans, a grey and black patterned overcoat and a scarf that is almost offensively red. He's smiling so widely it hurts a little to look at him.

"You made it!" Hongbin exclaims, looking pleased and surprised. 

As though Hakyeon would ever have the gall to stand up a client, any client. He has never been late, not even when he has to rush from one side of Seoul to the other in peak hour traffic. "Wouldn't have missed it for the world." The words slip too easily off Hakyeon's tongue. He winces a little at handing Hongbin a line he has tossed to so many others before.

Hongbin doesn't notice, too busy fiddling with something in his hands. All of a sudden, he lifts it and presses his finger down on the button. The shutter snaps, and Hakyeon is left sputtering in surprise. Hongbin examines the display with a grin. "You look so cute when you're shocked."

Hakyeon scowls. "I should charge you for that." Hongbin just laughs, easy and bright. It slides into Hakyeon and leaves him feeling breathless, wrongfooted. 

Flustered, he leans over to look at the offending photo. He regrets it immediately. The Hakyeon in the picture is startled, mouth slightly open and head tilted in mid-motion, but it isn't the awkward pose that punches him in the gut. Somehow Hongbin has captured the soft amusement in Hakyeon's eyes as he looks at Hongbin. Picture Hakyeon looks—unguarded. Open. _Happy._

The sun is bright and insistent overhead, but Hakyeon shivers.

"Are you cold?" Before Hakyeon can reply, Hongbin's unwound his scarf and is looping it around Hakyeon's neck. "There," Hongbin says, surveying his work with satisfaction.

"I didn't say I was cold," Hakyeon protests. His chin is buried in the scarf. It's warm. It smells nice. It smells like Hongbin. Even if it's red.

"Maybe I just wanted to see you wearing it." Hongbin dodges Hakyeon's instinctive hit and runs away laughing. Hakyeon chases after him. 

The pounding in his chest is from exertion. It isn't anything more.

~*~

It was a mistake. A huge, terrible, horrible mistake and even if Hongbin were to perish in a million fires and have his ashes scattered to the very farthest corners of the world, it would still not make up for the grave injustice he has committed.

"Are you okay?" Hongbin asks worriedly, smoothing a hand down N's back as he hunches over the stone bench. "Do you need some water?"

"I'll be fine," N rasps, but he's a lousy, lousy liar because he's still pale and shaking and he's dripping sweat down his bangs and it's all Hongbin's fault.

"I'm so sorry," Hongbin babbles, "I had _no idea_ you didn't like roller coasters. I thought it'd be a nice change to meet outside instead but—" He catches a breath, and in a smaller voice, asks, "Are you ever going to speak to me again?"

He braces himself for the fallout, but N gasps out a laugh, and when he looks up at Hongbin, his eyes are bright, though watery. "Stop panicking. I'm still alive."

"Just barely."

"And it's not your fault," N insists. "You didn't know."

"That's right. It was your fault for not telling me." Hongbin frowns. "Did you not tell me because you were afraid I'd be annoyed?"

"You just looked so excited about the roller coaster. And I said I'd do whatever you wanted."

There's a horrible feeling in Hongbin's stomach. "It's not because you couldn't say no, right? Like you felt you _had_ to do it since—" _I'm paying for your time_. He feels abruptly sick. The camera weighs heavily around his neck. It was a silly, sentimental idea, but he'd just wanted to see N outside for once, on a normal sort of day. On a normal sort of... date.

"No!" N reaches out, grasps Hongbin's hand. "It's not that. Stop it, I know what you're thinking."

"You have no idea what I'm thinking," Hongbin assures him, ears burning in embarrassment.

N's forehead looks cute when it's all scrunched up. His nose is cute too. Okay, every part of N looks cute and Hongbin is in trouble because there's too much he wants to do with N. Together with N.

"Is this a date?" he blurts, because his brain-to-mouth filter hasn't worked since he was five; he just pretends really well.

There's no reply for a while. "Do you want it to be?"

"Yes," Hongbin says immediately. 

N laughs. "Well, then it is."

Such a swell of happiness rises in Hongbin—he wants to kiss N but he will restrain himself, because that's appropriate when they are surrounded by people. Still, he lets himself tuck his hand into the crook of N's arm and draw him close. 

"It's cold," he explains, when N raises a questioning brow. N's eyes are so pretty when they go soft with humour, and Hongbin likes giving him a reason to look like that. Unable to resist, he takes a quick glance around and then swoops down to drop a kiss on N's lips. They're pliant under his, and taste of N's fruity lipbalm. "Come on," he says, heart bursting. He holds his hand out. N's gloved hand slips into his own.

"Is this what you do on all your dates?" N teases.

"Just the ones with you," Hongbin says.

Hongbin buys them both ice-cream: melon for himself, strawberry for N. They avoid the roller coasters but head to the petting zoo, where Hongbin snaps various pictures of N looking cute with baby animals. N smiles easily, laughs whenever Hongbin cracks a particularly funny joke. N lets him link their arms together and even accepts another sudden kiss Hongbin plants on him just as they're turning out of one of the alleys. Before they leave, Hongbin drags N into the souvenir shop and buys them a matching pair of stuffed animals. 

"For us to remember this day by," he explains, before he pulls N into a couple shot.

It's the best day of Hongbin's life.

~*~

The clock chimes nine o'clock. It's dark, and Hakyeon is sitting on the floor of his apartment, surrounded by fifty thousand won bills.

His ten o'clock will be swinging by to get him in another forty-five minutes. He'll need to shower and change into something fresh, shave off the stubble beginning to form on his chin, make sure he's neat and presentable, even if he's just going to end up out of his coat and shirt and tie and into someone else's bed.

He's still wearing the baseball cap Hongbin had pressed onto his head at the amusement park, teasing that it looked better on Hakyeon than on himself. Hongbin's scarf is on the table where he'd left it, tassels trailing onto the floor. Hakyeon stomach growls. He has no appetite for dinner.

At the end of their three hours together, Hongbin had hesitantly forked out three times of Hakyeon's usual fee and passed it to him in a discreet brown envelope. Hakyeon, still high on the rush of Hongbin's smiling, dimpled face pressed close to his as they took their first couple shot together, hadn't immediately realised what Hongbin was holding out. 

"What's this—" he'd begun to ask, when his fingers closed around the familiar shape. Banknotes. His voice had trailed off, a cold knot forming in the pit of his stomach.

Hongbin had prattled on, "And the couple items are fan service! You can have them as a tip." His smile widened and his dimples flashed, like he'd told a joke.

"That's very generous of you," Hakyeon said numbly. He'd taken the envelope, of course. What else could he have done?

He let Hongbin kiss him goodbye and promise to see him again. 

Then he spent the rest of the evening in his apartment, laying out the crisp yellow won notes side by side on the floor. He stared at them for a long time.

~*~

Hongbin calls, of course. He texts, leaves voice messages because Hakyeon was foolish enough to give him his number. Hakyeon deletes them all. Except for one, which he listens to when he's feeling especially low.

"I miss you," Hongbin's recorded voice says. "I hope you're well." A pause. "Um, if you're free, I'd really like to see you again. But..." An exhale. "I'd understand if your schedule is packed." A long pause, with nothing but Hongbin's breathing on the end, and then, softly, "Take care of yourself, N-ssi."

~*~

Hongbin calls. For weeks after their trip to the amusement park, N's number is at the top of his frequent contacts list.

He sends messages at first, casual, enthusiastic texts on the evening after they part ways. "Thanks for the wonderful day! Have a great evening, N-ssi," he composes, and adds a smiley face. He tries hard not to think about what N might be doing that evening. He wonders if it would be too hasty to arrange their next meet-up.

The next morning, when N has yet to reply, Hongbin decides he doesn't mind appearing desperate, and sends another message. And another. By the time he's worried enough to breach social protocol and try calling N, he gets startled when the ringing tone is abruptly cut off. Confused, he tries again; the second time, it goes on ringing until it finally reaches voicemail. He leaves a message, trying to sound cheerful and not overly concerned. He never gets a reply. 

_It's all right,_ he tells himself. Maybe N's been busy. Maybe he's gone out of the country. They can meet when he returns. Emboldened, he continues to call, leaving an assortment of voice messages for N to come home to. The photographs he developed from the amusement park sit on his table. He arranges and rearranges them, thinking of how happy N's face looks when it's lit up in pleased surprise.

Two weeks later, a strange man answers the phone and says hello in a deep, gruff voice. Hongbin hangs up immediately. His chest hurts and he's breathing much too quickly. He doesn't try again after that.

~*~

"I've told you, I don't need to go out," Hakyeon protests, shoving his duvet over his head with a groan.

"And I'm telling you that you do. Enough of this lazing around! You're going to grow roots into the bed where you're lying like a lump." Jaehwan is the worst friend in the world. Why else would he barge his way into Hakyeon's apartment at the crack of dawn? "It's not the crack of dawn, it's already ten o'clock."

"No one asked you."

"I could tell what you were thinking." 

Hakyeon grumbles and buries deeper into his bed. Unfortunately, his pillow is unceremoniously yanked out from under him, and his head hits the mattress with a thump. "Hey!" 

Jaehwan glares down at him. "I know you've been moping in here for at least three weeks. As your best friend, I have a sworn duty to ensure you don't expire here in your own apartment. No worries, you can thank me later." He wrinkles his nose. "How long haven't you bathed?" 

Jaehwan gets a pillow in his face for that. But it's enough to drag Hakyeon out of bed, get shoved unwillingly into the shower, and pushed out of the door for something to eat.

"I thought we could try the ramyeon place around the corner," Jaehwan is saying, yanking Hakyeon at a speed faster than he's willing to go.

"It's too early for ramyeon."

"It's too early for anything, according to you." 

"It would be _true_."

Jaehwan sniffs. "Not everyone works the night shift like you do. Some of us keep regular sleeping hours. I mean, it must be nice to have such flexible working hours, but honestly."

Something in Hakyeon's expression must shift, because all at once Jaehwan is catching his arm and spinning him around to face him. "What. What is it?"

Hakyeon is nonplussed to see him so close. "What's wrong with you?"

"What's wrong with _you?_ " Jaehwan retorts. "Does it have something to do with how you've turned into a sad moping thing?"

"Who're you calling names?" Hakyeon says, but his heart isn't in it. For the hundredth time, he regrets having made a friend who's so perceptive. And so persistent: The moment Jaehwan latches on to something, he never lets go of it until he gets his answer. Hakyeon will save them both the trouble. He steps around Jaehwan. "I met someone."

"Ooh!"

Hakyeon interrupts before Jaehwan can get beside himself in excitement. "To be very exact, I thought I'd met someone."

"What? You either meet someone or you don't," Jaehwan says carelessly, but then he catches up with what Hakyeon is saying. "Oh. You broke it off."

"You say it like it's a bad thing," Hakyeon jokes, but even he can tell that it's half-hearted. "I'm sexy, free and single."

Jaehwan doesn't pick up the obvious invitation to burst into song. "It's a bad thing if it incapacitates you after they're gone. Who was it?"

"Someone I met." The supremely unimpressed expression doesn't leave Jaehwan's face. Hakyeon sighs. "Someone I slept with."

"Someone you liked enough to sleep with?" Jaehwan looks somewhere between disbelieving and amazed.

"I sleep with people all the time," Hakyeon points out, though the words feel like ashes. "It's nothing groundbreaking."

Jaehwan stops, searches Hakyeon's face. Gently, he asks, "Was this someone you slept with... or someone who paid you to sleep with them?"

"Does it make a difference?" But Hakyeon knows it does, _it does_. It should have. 

"Did you fall for them?" Jaehwan reads the answer right off Hakyeon's face, and his expression sobers. "Did they fall for you?"

Hakyeon can't even bring himself to protest when Jaehwan impulsively turns and wraps him in a huge hug, right in front of the ramyeon shop. And that's the crux of it, of course. Hakyeon's crossed his own lines, gone places he shouldn't have, and he has no one to blame for it but himself.

~*~

Hongbin's not sure what drives him out of the office before his lunch break officially starts, but CEO Kim has been having mental breakdowns about the poorly brokered Macau deal the entire morning, and the whole company is suffering from the aftershocks of scrambling for data and records and files to cover their asses. Hongbin isn't directly involved, since he's in charge of the Middle Eastern accounts, but there's only so much secondhand drama he can take on a Monday morning. He already has a pounding headache from restless dreams the night before, and today is starting to look like one of those days where they all have to stay back at work to fix one team's mistake.

A cursory glance reveals that his colleagues are still bent over their desks, so he swipes a few notes from his wallet, stuffs them into his pocket, and makes his way out of the cloistering office and into the sunshine. It's a brisk day, and Hongbin wishes he'd thought to bring his coat. Still, the air is invigorating, and he doesn't plan to be out long anyway. 

A hot coffee would be nice. There's a new cafe that has just opened up next to the ramyeon shop nearby. He might just check out their offerings. If the coffee's decent, he could even make plans to switch out from the three-in-one instant coffee in their pantry to some of the real, freshly brewed stuff. He should probably check what time they're open till, in case there's a need for chemical fortification on a particularly busy night.

He dips into the cafe, takes in its chic interior and its conservative opening menu. The shop is staffed by a cashier and a single barista, probably a youngish twenty-something who decided that working in a corporate office and drawing two million won a month was too plebeian for his tastes. The cashier, who looks like she's still in school, greets Hongbin with an overenthusiastic smile and cheerfully recommends their baked goods.

Hongbin picks up a muffin along with his coffee, contemplates buying a latte for his senior out of courtesy, and figures he'll go ahead and get it since he has extra change. The barista hands him his takeaway coffees with a sullen expression that Hongbin forgives. It's a Monday; everyone save the cashier seems to realise that. He balances them and the paper bag with the muffin in his hands, and uses his shoulder to carefully push open the glass door.

So when they meet, Hongbin is holding two cups of coffee, and Hakyeon is twined around another man.

~*~

Hakyeon doesn't notice at first. Jaehwan is the one who suddenly stiffens in Hakyeon's arms.

"Okay, don't take this the wrong way, but someone's staring at us like he wants to kill us. Should I be worried?"

Hakyeon laughs, but starts to extract himself from the hug. "You're always paranoid," he says, and then he sees Hongbin.

~*~

Hongbin is the first to speak. He drifts towards N in a sort of daze, eyes focused on N's as he stiffens and shifts uncomfortably on the spot, but doesn't run away. "Hey."

"Hi."

"You're looking well."

"So are you."

"You live around here?"

"Just around the block."

"I work here."

"I see."

Hongbin is thankful that he's holding a cup of coffee in each hand. He doesn't know what he might have tried if his hands were free. Something embarrassing, perhaps, like throw his arms around N.

"I thought you were overseas."

"I changed my number."

"Was there a reason?" 

N looks away. It's answer enough. There are things Hongbin wants to ask, but the other man is still standing protectively beside N like an unwelcome voyeur, and Hongbin is determined not to have the conversation here.

"I have something I've been meaning to give you."

N hesitates, then acknowledges, "I still have your scarf."

"Will you be around tonight?"

"I'll be working late." 

And Hongbin knows— _knows_ what N's work is, but it doesn't stop the sudden flare of pain in his chest. He forces himself to speak calmly. "That's fine. I won't be done that early either. Shall we meet at the park?"

They set a time to meet. He doesn't ask for N's new number. He says goodbye, and does not look back at the two of them.

Hongbin is proud that his voice never shakes throughout the encounter. He carries the coffee and the muffin back to the office, and doesn't tremble until he sets them safely on the table.

~*~

"So that was him."

Hakyeon has to admit it. "Yes."

"He looked jealous."

"He's probably just angry that I haven't been answering his calls." 

Jaehwan raises his eyebrows. "I'm not so sure we were looking at the same person here. Tall guy, insanely handsome, big puppy dog eyes? That was not the look of an angry man."

Hakyeon isn't listening. "Another meeting. I wonder if he'll try to pay me for the time tonight." He bites off a bubble of hysterical laughter.

"He doesn't look like he has that much money to throw at you."

"He throws it at me anyway," Hakyeon says. He finds that saying the words out loud doesn't make them any less painful. Fifty thousand bills, like everything of Hakyeon has been monetised and there's nothing he has that someone hasn't already evaluated and bid a price on. 

Jaehwan is shaking his head. "One of you has got to be living in the wrong story here. That poor boy didn't sound vengeful, just sad."

"He only looks pretty," Hakyeon continues, feeling a sob rising in his chest. "There's nothing redeeming about him at all."

Jaehwan's face closes. "Hey. That's a really mean thing to say. You know that." Hakyeon refuses to look at him. Jaehwan exhales, grasps his wrist and coaxes Hakyeon to turn to face him. "Hakyeon. Stop believing everything those men say to you. It's not true about you, and it's not true about him."

"How do you know that?" Hakyeon chokes. "How can you even confidently say that about me?"

"How long have we known each other?" Jaehwan returns. "You've been my best friend since your family moved to Seoul! Unless you're saying I've been mistaken about you all this while?"

Hakyeon sits down heavily on a bench. The sun has gone behind a cloud, and the wind is beginning to whip up again.

Jaehwan says, "You're one of the kindest, most self-sacrificing people I know. Those people—" He bites off whatever he was going to say. "You are not worthless. No matter how they make you feel, no matter what you think about yourself. I know you took this job for your brother. I know you wouldn't have if you had a choice." 

Jaehwan's face is starting to look blurry. Hakyeon blinks furiously to clear his vision. "There's always a choice."

"Do you believe that?" Jaehwan asks. "Do you believe you deserve to be happy, or that it's okay to want things for yourself? Because it really doesn't look that way to me right now. It looks to me like you're taking the hardest route there is available, because you think you deserve it or you like the pain, I don't know." Jaehwan takes the seat beside Hakyeon, wets his lips. "You know, Sanghyuk is all grown up now. He'll be graduating college in another year. And—he didn't want me to tell you, but he's been taking part-time jobs on the side. He's been paying off his student loans on his own."

"What?" Hakyeon snaps, rounding on Jaehwan. "He was supposed to be focusing on his studies!"

"Hyuk's a smart boy. He's acing his course without even trying. And he wants to help. You should let him." 

Jaehwan sounds reasonable. Almost too reasonable. A terrible cold comes over Hakyeon, and a buzzing noise starts in his ears. Hollowly, he asks, "Does he know?"

Jaehwan's brow furrows. "Does he know what?"

"Does Hyuk know. About what I do?"

"Oh," Jaehwan says, "no," and Hakyeon feels a rush of blinding relief, "no, he doesn't. But he's concerned about you. So am I." Jaehwan pauses, then seems to decide something in his mind. "I know you hate it when I talk about your job, but it's changing you. And it's affecting what you believe about relationships, what you believe men want from you. When was the last time you were in a steady relationship? Or did something you wanted instead of something you felt you had to do?" 

Hakyeon remains stubbornly still. 

"All I'm saying is—you've done a lot for Sanghyuk. And maybe it's time for you to do something for yourself instead. All we want is for you to be happy."

~*~

Hongbin is the first to arrive at the park. It's dark, street lamps lighting up the benches in yellow casts, illuminating some parts and casting the rest into shadow.

He's only here to give N the photographs, he reminds himself sternly. He isn't here to— _figure out if N is eating well, if he misses him too, why he stopped picking up Hongbin's calls._ N doesn't owe it to him. Hongbin knew it would end, after all. He just hadn't expected it to happen so quickly. 

The thick wad of photographs sits in his hands. He may have overdone it a little, he realises suddenly, and anxiously starts to peel at the tape holding the package together. Maybe he shouldn't have included quite so many pictures of N smiling and laughing, and all those random close-ups of his eyes and beautiful, long fingers. It's probably bordering on creepy—

"You've reached."

Hongbin jumps and clutches his package to himself. "N-ssi," he greets. He smoothes the tape down again forlornly. It's too late to make any changes to its contents. He'll just have to hope that N sees it as sentimental rather than stalkerish.

N is dressed in a light coat; no make-up, thankfully, Hongbin doesn't know what he would have done with that reminder. He looks—good, a little tired, but not like he's been suffering through restless nights. Hongbin is ashamed to find himself grudging N his apparently peaceful sleep.

"Here." N holds a paper bag out to him. Hongbin takes it before he recognises what it is; it's lighter than he expects. "It's your scarf," N explains, not taking his eyes off the bag.

"Where's the man who was with you?" Hongbin blurts, and then bites his tongue with a cringe. _How many times must I remind you to think before you speak—_

N's face hardens. "He's my friend, he's gone home. What are you really asking? If I'm with him? If we sleep together? If he pays me like you do?"

Just the thought of N lying in bed spread all over the man he says is his friend makes Hongbin a little choked up and dizzy inside. He knows N. He's mapped his bronze skin, remembers every quiet sigh and soft breath. And now this... _friend_... does too. "And me? Am I your friend?"

"You are my _client_ ," N snaps. "And I'm terminating this relationship. You'll have to bring your business elsewhere."

Hongbin will always say it was panic that drove him to say what he did: "If I had money, would you sleep with me?"

The inescapable hurt and fury on N's face stops Hongbin short. "Isn't that what we did? You paid me to sleep with you, you paid me to go on a date with you. What else do you want to buy? Do you think that just because you fling money at me, I'll keep coming? I am not just a commodity to be purchased, no matter what all of you think!"

"I don't think that way at all," Hongbin says, voice breaking. "I just think it's the only way I can see you again."

For a moment, there's nothing but their laboured breathing. Then N says, "And would you keep seeing me, if you knew of all the other people I... see on the side?" Hongbin doesn't know what N sees in his face, but he can't quite suppress the wave of jealousy and possessiveness that comes over him. N draws back, eyes hooded. "I thought so."

This is it, Hongbin realises abruptly. This is the last time N is going to allow him in his life. He clutches N's arm in something like desperation. "Wait, before you go—" He pushes the envelope of photographs at N. "Take this." Take something of me. Remember me.

N's lip curls as he stares at the package. "Are you trying to pay me again?"

"What?" Hongbin says, uncomprehending.

N laughs, but it's bitter. "Let me stay consistent with how you see me, then. Thanks for the tip." He seizes the envelope and spins off into the night.

Hongbin lets himself watch N leave for the last time.

~*~

Hakyeon slams the door behind him and sinks down on the floor of his apartment. The package falls beside him with a thump.

Ten minutes of striding away from Hongbin and he's still as furious as he was when he first turned around. He can't remember the last time he's felt both angry and hurt and annoyed at what he's feeling. _You thought he was different. You were wrong. It's not a big deal, just acknowledge it and move on._ And never make the same mistake again.

His foot slips and nudges the packet Hongbin had given him. Resentment rises in him. More money. How much, this time, for the esteemed presence of Cha Hakyeon at your break-up routine? Surely it's worth at least twenty thousand won.

He snatches up the envelope, then pauses when it's in his hands. Now that he isn't in a rage, he realises that it's oddly shaped—its contents are rectangular, like the previous envelope, but too wide for banknotes. There's an unexpected heft to the whole package. He frowns slightly, turning it over, but the envelope is nondescript, except for the address of a coffee shop printed in a corner. He slides his finger under the tape, opens the flap of the envelope and tips out its contents. They spill out over the floor.

Pictures. They're pictures. Photographs of him, smiling, eating the ice-cream Hongbin bought for him, wearing outrageous accessories as Hongbin laughs at him behind the camera, queuing for the merry-go-round after Hongbin realises he has no stomach for roller coasters, taking a couple shot, his face pressed next to Hongbin's. There's Hakyeon laughing so hard he's holding his side with one hand and raising the other towards the camera in a gesture for Hongbin to stop. Hakyeon soft and unguarded, eyes crinkled in amusement as Hongbin waves something large and yellow at him off-camera. Hakyeon pensive, face tipped up to the sky like he can't believe this is happening to him. Hongbin's scarf is warm and red around his neck.

Photographs that Hongbin had taken, of their trip to the amusement park. And a Hakyeon who let himself be happy.

The clock sounds, breaking the silence. It chimes ten times, but Hakyeon doesn't register it. 

Hongbin hadn't tried to pay him.

~*~

It's a short message, from an unknown number.

"Can we meet?" the text reads.

N doesn't leave his name but Hongbin knows who it is instinctively, from the moment his phone vibrates and he glances up from his work to see the terse message on its screen. He swallows both the sudden hope and fear, and doesn't care what he must look like when he immediately punches out a reply. "Where?" When he gets his answer, he grabs his coat, mumbles something about meeting a client and dashes out of the office. 

N chose a coffee shop, one of those hard-to-find places tucked in the second floor of an alley. There aren't many visitors. The owner is an expressionless young man who impassively points out their drink selection and then goes to play with the kitten he keeps in a basket in the corner. The rest of the shop is empty. Hongbin places an order out of politeness rather than necessity, then scans the shop, wondering what sort of seat he should pick.

"Oh," the owner says, turning back to where Hongbin is standing awkwardly, clutching the strap of his satchel in his hand, "your friend is upstairs."

"There's another upstairs?"

"Turn the corner and you'll get there."

N is already there, nursing a round cup of coffee when Hongbin enters the room. He looks up when Hongbin takes his seat; Hongbin is struck by how tired he looks.

"Haven't you been sleeping well?"

The faintest of smiles appears on N's face. "Just not last night."

"Was it—" _The photos? Your clients?_

N doesn't answer the unvoiced question. The waitress delivers Hongbin's chocolate latte. Hongbin takes a sip, and then N is talking.

"I have some things I need to tell you," N says. "You can ask questions, but please don't interrupt me for a start." N takes a fortifying drink of whatever he has in his cup, then starts to speak. "First, my name is Cha Hakyeon. I've been working in this industry for the past three years. I have one younger brother I've putting through college. We were short on finances. It started out of necessity: it was a job that paid well, I enjoy sleeping with people and I was good enough at it to draw an income while I did. But along the way, it became a job I punished myself for taking. I haven't been in a relationship since I dropped out of college. I haven't managed to keep any of them. They never can abide by my job, and frankly there are days I can't either. You—you were one of the bright spots for a while, but now I've gone and lost you too." 

N seems to run out of steam by then, so Hongbin opens his mouth. "How old's your brother?" he asks, and registers the surprise in N—Hakyeon's face. He can't help it; he just wanted to take some of the self-loathing out of the other's voice. It wouldn't do to step on one of the landmines Hakyeon has scattered.

"He's 20," Hakyeon says. "Graduating in June," he can't help but add.

"That's really young to be graduating from college," Hongbin says, injecting just the right amount of admiration.

"Hyuk is bright," Hakyeon says with pride. "Top of his class since elementary school."

Hongbin doesn't want to say anything that might break the tentativeness of their rapport, so he says, "I'm Lee Hongbin." Hakyeon's startled eyes meet his, and it's enough to bolster Hongbin's confidence for what he's about to do. "I work in sales for a local company. I have two older sisters I rarely see anymore. They're both married, and I'm the youngest who never seems to amount to anything. My father got me this job through some connections he had. My mother passed away just after I moved to Seoul a couple of years ago. I never forgave myself for not being with her when she passed." Hongbin needs to take a breath; it doesn't matter how much time passes, it always feels as raw and fresh as the first time he'd found out. "You're the first person I've ever picked up along the road like that. I never expected to be so attracted to you—you intrigued me."

"It was novelty," Hakyeon says.

"It was a connection," Hongbin returns. "Tell me you never considered we could have worked if we'd met under any other circumstance." Hakyeon can't respond. Hongbin is smugly satisfied, but reluctant to put the other on the spot, he says, "I felt the same." He hesitates, then adds, "I still feel the same." He's surprised to find that it's true. 

Hakyeon drains his cup in one nervous swallow. His fingers trace the handle and body of the porcelain, over and over. Hongbin's own fingers itch with the urge to take them, but he doesn't reach over.

"Hakyeon is a pretty name," he says instead. "How did you get the name N?"

"From my name, it means 'fate'."

"Do you think this is fate?"

"I've started believing in my ability to make my own choices."

"Then do you want to try? Choosing this?" The long silence after the words leave Hongbin's mouth is almost enough for him to regret them.

Very carefully, Hakyeon shifts their cups to the side. He pushes his chair back, stands and leans across the small coffee table, as though to confide a secret. One hand braces himself against the tabletop. The other comes up to press against Hongbin's cheek, a question. 

Hongbin shuts his eyes and tilts his chin up. Hakyeon tastes of tears.

~*~

It doesn't get easier. But it gets better.

Hakyeon doesn't go back to the street corner where they'd first met. Sanghyuk was the reason he'd taken the job, and Sanghyuk was half of the reason he stopped. Hongbin was the other half.

Hongbin, when he finds out, apologises for the envelope that had driven them apart. He'd thought it was only proper, since he'd taken up so much of Hakyeon's time. Hongbin has a strong sense of propriety. Considering where it got us, Hakyeon tells him, it's probably a good thing. "Not if it hurt you," Hongbin says, voice hard and funny. Hakyeon learns that Hongbin can be protective. He also learns that he likes it.

Hakyeon has his own things to apologise for. Forgiveness is a new concept; acceptance is even stranger. There are times it's hard for Hakyeon to show Hongbin exactly how low he's fallen. Hongbin kisses his scars, holds him through his nightmares, and loves him anyway. 

Hongbin moves into Hakyeon's apartment. "It only makes sense," Hakyeon told him when he first broached the idea, ears red and trying not to think how much like a proposal it sounded. "From an economical point of view." Hongbin hadn't needed much convincing. Hakyeon gets a thrill from the small things: seeing Hongbin's shoes sitting next to his at the door, his green and white striped phone lying on the coffee table, next to the bed, on the kitchen counter. Hakyeon has never been much of a decorator, but Hongbin's photographs start to colonise the walls, a few square inches at a time. It's nothing new. It's the same way he makes his way into Hakyeon's heart, after all.

Occasionally, Jaehwan comes by their apartment and lounges on their couch and cracks jokes about how lovey-dovey they are. They're not, Hakyeon wants to say. There are times Hakyeon is insecure or Hongbin is careless with his words or Hakyeon leaves his dirty clothes lying around or Hongbin destroys something in the kitchen with his truly abominable cooking skills. But like two stones in a stream, they hit against each other until their edges smooth out. It isn't easy, and at times it's actually painful, but they get better. They get better at being together.

At night, they lie together and breathe together, breaths in sync. Hakyeon relaxes enough to snuggle into Hongbin and Hongbin lets himself be cuddled. Hakyeon thinks of the things he never dared to want. Hongbin thinks of how believing the best led to the best, after all, and an impossible thought crosses their minds: It was worth it, in the end.

  
  
  
  


_I will love you when you are a still day._  
_I will love you when you are a hurricane._  
—Untitled, by Clementine von Radics

**Author's Note:**

> Come find me on [Twitter](http://twitter.com/slashedsilver) or [Tumblr](http://slashedsilver.tumblr.com) ♥

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Love for Sale](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4421747) by [alunsina](https://archiveofourown.org/users/alunsina/pseuds/alunsina), [slashedsilver](https://archiveofourown.org/users/slashedsilver/pseuds/slashedsilver), [wykedpanda](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wykedpanda/pseuds/wykedpanda)




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